The mink was coming out of the calf’s anus when they passed. Schmidty chopped its head off with one solid “whack” from the axe. He gave Seth a nod, and Seth opened the sliding glass window. He waited a moment before taking a step into a comfortable den.
The house was graveyard still. A dim light was on in the galley kitchen just ahead. It looked like Luis’s wife had set his dinner on the bar between the den and the kitchen. Seth swallowed hard and lowered his voice to no more than a low hum. Schmidty followed suit. Neither one dared give up their song.
Maresol had spent every summer in this house growing up. She’d once told Seth, that as a child, she would hide in a space between the first floor and the basement ceiling. No one ever found her. Originally built as a hiding place for alcohol during prohibition, the space was three feet by six feet. Just enough space for a sitting adult. Seth had to trust that she was now in her hiding place. Anything else was too awful to contemplate.
The doorbell rang, and was followed by a knock. Something moved near the front of the house. Abram Miller’s voice called Luis’s name through the door.
Seth raised his handgun and took a step past the bar into the kitchen. Without warning, a twenty-five-year old Mitch Delgado appeared in the long hallway to the front. He wore a cocky smile, tattered jeans, and an old green shirt with ARMY on it. The sheer joy of seeing his best friend made Seth’s head spin. Mitch shook his head and put his finger to his lips. He pointed to the kitchen. Schmidty ran into the kitchen, and Seth followed him.
“Down,” Mitch mouthed.
They crouched down. Seth raised his handgun to eye level.
Muttering to himself, Cotton ran through the hallway and into the den. He was carrying a carving knife. His hands were stained with blood. Tiny beads of blood dropped from the knife.
“God damn it,” Cotton said. “I can’t wait to get my knife into your sorry ass. I will take your demon for myself and punish your flesh by carving every piece of skin off you.”
“Show me,” Mitch said. He gave Cotton one of his annoying “prove it” grins and disappeared.
Cotton screamed with rage and ran to the front of the house. Abram Miller opened the front door. The Amish man shot him in the leg with his shotgun. Cotton sneered and kept moving toward Abram.
“Got you, Delgado.” Cotton laughed.
Cotton thrust the knife at Abram’s son-in-law. They fired in unison, hitting Cotton in the chest. Cotton’s body flew backwards. He hit the living room wall and fell to the ground dead with the knife in his hand.
The home seemed to darken, and there was a putrid smell in the air.
“Remember the demon!” Seth yelled. “You have to sing!”
The Amish began singing their traditional hymn, “Lob Lieb.” The children outside took up the song. Seth and Schmidty sang “A Melody for Amelie.” The Amish men set their weapons down. Seth went looking for Maresol. As he’d hoped, she was tucked under the kitchen floor and singing “Immaculate Mary.” He helped her out of the crawl space and held her close.
“Mitch was here,” Maresol said.
“I saw him,” Seth said.
“He . . .” Maresol said.
“Just sing,” Seth said.
So they sang and waited for the police in the kitchen. The Amish taught Seth, Schmidty, and Maresol “Lob Lieb,” and Maresol taught them “Ave Maria.” They could hear the sirens moving in their direction when Mitch appeared in the hallway.
“It’s okay now,” Mitch said. “The demon has been taken care of. Dispose of the body by fire, O’Malley. Take him back to the jungle.”
“Will do,” Seth said.
Maresol threw herself at the apparition, and he held her tight. They whispered back and forth. He gave Seth a fond smile. Seth raised his hand in a goodbye. Mitch gave a cocky grin and turned down the hallway. They heard footsteps move down the hall to the front of the house.
The door of the house banged open and the Costilla County Sheriff’s ran inside. As the only lawyer in the group, Schmidty stepped forward to speak with them.
“That man,” Abram Miller said. “Your friend.”
“Mitch Delgado,” Seth said.
“He’s not from here,” Abram Miller said.
“Died more than ten years ago,” Seth said.
“There must be much love between you,” Abram Miller said. He gestured to where Maresol was speaking to the Sheriff. “He came to us while we were on the porch. Asked us if we would mind dispatching the evil one. When we assured him that we live in God’s way, he told us to wait until he gave the word.”
Abram Miller gave a slight nod to indicate that’s why they were at the right place and the right time. Seth nodded.
“He is your angel,” Mark, Abram Miller’s son-in-law, said.
“They call me Magic O’Malley,” Seth shrugged. “Mitch was always the ‘magic’ in my life.”
“We won’t mention your angel to the police.” Abram Miller looked at his son-in-law, and he nodded.
“Good idea,” Seth grinned.
The men smiled at Seth. The deputy sheriffs escorted them to the front of the house, where they were joined by the boys.
“Hey, Magic,” the Costilla County Sheriff said, as he stepped out of his car. “You responsible for getting a murderer who killed . . .” He looked at the deputy standing next to him and asked, “How many did Denver say?”
“They think ten, sir,” the deputy said. “Hacked them up.”
“These men shot him,” Seth said.
The Costilla County Sheriff looked at Abram and Mark. He gave them a slow nod and then looked back at Seth.
“Magic O’Malley strikes again,” the Sheriff said. “Are you going to make me look like a jackass like you did over in Las Animas this spring?”
“Sir . . .” Seth started.
“That’s what I thought,” the Sheriff said. “And the money?”
“What money, sir?” Seth asked. “If there’s a reward, it should go to Mr. Miller and his son-in-law.”
“That’s all taken care of by the fast-talking law-yer over there,” the Sheriff said. “I’m talking media money.”
“It’s yours,” Seth said.
“Good,” the Sheriff said. “Las Animas Sherriff was able to buy all new equipment for his guys—new vehicles too. We could use it.”
Seth grinned.
“You got a ride?” the Sheriff asked.
“With the lawyer.”
“Please. Do go before the news helicopters get here from Pueblo,” the Sheriff said.
“What about . . .?” Seth gestured to the Millers.
“They can go home,” the Sheriff said. “Ain’t nobody going to care what these fine men have to say once they find out that Magic O’Malley was here.”
The Sheriff gestured to a deputy, who went to tell the Millers. The paramedics took Maresol to the San Luis Valley Medical Center, and the Sheriff allowed Schmidty and Seth to follow her. Seth called Barton from the car and gave him an exclusive interview, including the death of State Attorney, Brent Davies.
Around dawn, Seth called Ava from the hospital.
“It’s over,” Seth said.
“I’m glad,” she said.
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